


Hold Your Burdens

by Grace Kay (Drummerchick7)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 15:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3900922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drummerchick7/pseuds/Grace%20Kay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How is it that you know exactly what I need, precisely when I need it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Iron Bull sat slumped in the corner. He had been like that for days.

"What is wrong with him?" Cassandra asked, the disgust clear upon her face.

Eleanor Trevelyan just shrugged. "He is Tal-Vashoth now," the girl said, blue eyes looking up at Cassandra. She was almost as short and slight as Sera, with white-blonde hair and skin so fair they had a difficult time keeping her from burning when out on the road. Keeping her slight frame warm in the cold had also been a nightmare. She was probably exactly half as big as Cassandra. "Apparently he is not taking it well."

"Why don't you do something about it?" Cassandra demanded.

The Inquisitor frowned. "And what am I supposed to do to make him do anything? He's at least three times my size, and could throw me clear across the room with one hand. You want me to cast some spell upon him? I won't do it. Let him drink. We have nowhere to be just yet, anyway. Everything he's ever known has abandoned him – let him wallow a little."

Eleanor, the little mage with the big attitude from Ostwick's Circle, had a point, loathe as Cassandra was to admit it. "What…  _exactly_  happened?" she finally asked.

The mage, her attention clearly upon Sera's room at the back of the tavern, finally moved her gaze to Cassandra's. "You know that the deal with the qunari fell through? It was because he chose to call a retreat for the Chargers. It sacrificed a qunari ship. If he had saved the ship instead, Krem and the rest would likely be dead." Her eyes turned down. "I keep trying to apologize – he was asking me what to do so I told him to pick his men – but he won't hear it. Says it's his burden, his responsibility, to bear. But he's not bearing it well."

Cassandra's eyes drifted back up to Bull, seeing his drunken stupor in a different light from before. "Clearly not," she murmured. His gaze would not meet anyone else's. His attention was not riveted like it usually was if a pretty man or woman came near. He was completely dejected.

It did not suit him.

Making a decision, Cassandra found her feet, leaving the Inquisitor free to scamper off to Sera's rooms for the rest of the night. Their relationship was odd, given Sera's fear of magic and its users, but they seemed to make each other happy, and Maker knew Eleanor Trevelyan could use the diversion. Those slight shoulders carried a mighty burden for all of them. Having someone's shoulder to lie on in the dark could do wonders.

And if the two of them had found a lasting love in the other? All the better.

Cassandra's concern at the moment, however, was the hulking slab of immovable muscle in the corner.

"Get up," Cassandra demanded. Bull merely looked up at her, his one eye bleary. Cassandra sighed. "Bull, get to your feet."

"Shove off, Seeker," he mumbled, looking away.

Making a disgusted noise, Cassandra reached out and took Bull by his horns, yanking his head around so he was looking at her. "Get up and hit me, Bull."

The look in his eyes could easily be described both as anger and as excitement. Releasing him, Cassandra backed away, letting the very drunk qunari get to his feet. Turning, she headed outside, not needing to see him follow to know that he did. Honestly, he rammed into so many people and tables on his way out that her ears informed her of his departure from the inn behind her.

The night sky was crystal-clear, the stars twinkling above them. The moon shone brightly, its brilliant light spilling over the grounds of Skyhold, giving everything it touched an ethereal glow.

Going to her corner of the practice yard, Cassandra took up two heavy wooden practice swords, tossing one of them immediately to Bull. She was surprised to see him catch it, given how drunk he was.

"Now," she said, spreading her feet upon the ground and holding her sword in front of her. "Hit me."

His attack was immediate. And sloppy. Cassandra easily danced out of the way, and his sword met the ground. Bringing her own weapon around, she spared none of her strength in the blow she delivered to his hamstring. He would have a bruise in the morning, but the pain seemed only to clear the fog from Bull's eye. Biting off his cry of pain, he lunged again, and again Cassandra was no longer there to meet his sword.

Within minutes all appearance of drunkenness had left Bull, and Cassandra actually had to  _try_. But the fact remained that this was her preferred method of fighting, and that this sword was small enough to be merely a long knife for Bull. Against his own preferred weaponry, and against a perfectly clear-headed Iron Bull, she would be dead very quickly were he not careful. Cassandra was not afraid, however. She had fought alongside Bull enough to know that his kills were  _never_  accidental.

Cassandra rolled, getting in close to Bull's feet. Hooking her blade behind him, she pulled with all her might. Down Bull went, landing on his broad back. Scrambling atop him, Cassandra had her practice sword's blade at his throat before he was able to gather himself to get up.

"Stay here and listen to me, Bull," she said. His one grey eye fixed upon her. His body heaved beneath her as he caught his breath, and his arms – each half as thick as Cassandra's whole body – trembled upon the ground, clearly itching to shove her off and take up his weapon once more. Her whole body moved as he breathed, and the combination of his gaze, his power, and his movement started to do rather peculiar things to her insides.

Her breath hitched as she tried to speak, but she recovered quickly, meeting his gaze with her own stern expression. "Leaving all you know behind is difficult," she began, hoping the fight and her words would be enough. He was older, battle-worn and world-wise. Hopefully he had learned how to listen. "The Order of Seekers are the ones who turned this conflict into an all-out war. The mages in Kirkwall rebelled, then the Circle in Orlais voted for independence, and the Seekers declared holy war upon them and led the templars into battle.

"But  _I_  did not follow. It was wrong. It was the wrong course of action. The Chantry did not allow the rebellion, but for too long did the templars see the Divine's gradual loosening of restrictions on mages in Orlais as action  _against_   _them_. And the Seekers… lost their way, and took the templars with them. I left the Order and stayed with the Divine."

Bull's breathing was calming now, and his expression no longer held anger. He was completely relaxed, with Cassandra sitting astride his chest as if she were no more cumbersome than some slight tavern wench. Again, the thought made her insides squirm in a delightful – and  _distracting_ – way.

"Sometimes, doing what is right is  _difficult_. But I made the right decision. The Qun… did not value your men. They saw them as no better than animals, to be disposed of at your whim, at their order. You see their value. You put value in their faith in your leadership. They are, each of them, dear friends to you. Unlike you and your qunari soldiers, they did not sign on for duty, to die for the Qun if need-be. They participated in that operation  _solely_  because you asked them to. You weren't even being paid for it."

Pausing, holding his gaze, Cassandra hoped she communicated her sincerity. "You did the  _right thing_ , Bull. It is difficult, but it is right. Sometimes doing the right thing requires us to leave or turn our backs on all we have ever known. But that does not make it any less right."

Relinquishing her hold on him, Cassandra quickly found her feet. Bull took a little longer – moving all that bulk quickly was hard to do, and he likely was still fuzzy from his drink. But his expression was… calm. Serene.

"Thanks, Cassandra. I… needed to hear that, from someone who knew what the fuck they were talking about. The Inquisitor kept trying, but…"

"But she does not know what we know," Cassandra said with a nod. "This is the first time she has ever been devoted to  _anything_  by choice. And it is  _our_  job to guide her through it, not the other way around. But sometimes we require guidance of our own. I am glad I could provide it for you tonight, Bull."

The big horned head nodded once. "Me, too." Grinning and winking – or perhaps with his one eye just  _blinking_  – he said, "I'll keep an eye out for when  _you_  might be even a tiny bit vulnerable and return the favor."

Cassandra shook her head, smirking slightly. "It shall be a strange day indeed should that come to pass."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was talking with Raven Sinead (you know you're not surprised, because all my ideas come when we talk with each other) and I was telling her she should ship Cassandra and Iron Bull. Naturally, she decided she'd ship Cass with someone else, but it stuck in my brain and I came up with this idea. So, here you have a short fic in which Cassandra and Bull help each other in the ways each of them needs most at the time.
> 
> This fic will be explicit shortly. And it has Raven Sinead's stamp of approval (she beta-ed it for me) so I know the smut I wrote is good and sexy and not completely out of line. I'm still nervous when I write hetero smut, as I have no experience with it outside of reading other people's erotica (and porn, but anyone who thinks real life is like porn is dumb).
> 
> In other news, I really like this Inquisitor even though this is the only time we're going to see her. She might be the next one I play through with, and she might star in some one-shot in the future, though. Because dammit, I like her.
> 
> Also. This whole thing is written, so each chapter will go up as I am able to edit it.


	2. Chapter 2

Cassandra swung her sword. It was like a fly batting at a giant, for all the good it did. Raising her shield, she blocked the blow aimed at her by the ogre. The blow connected, setting her teeth on edge, and pain blossomed in her shoulder before radiating outward down her arm and into her chest. Her shield arm fell, wrenching the pain further, and to her dismay, she found that she could not raise it.

When next the ogre's weapon descended, all Cassandra could do was meet it with determined eyes, her sword raised before her.

She flew through the air, landing yards away. Her breath wouldn't come. Her shield-arm was numb. Her sword fell from limp fingers.

A battle cry rang out, low and deep, clear enough she could hear it through her panic. Casting about with wild eyes, she saw that the ogre had been felled, and Bull stood atop it, removing his maul from the cavity it had created in the creature's chest. Slinging the bloody weapon over his shoulder, the qunari immediately began moving.

"Cassandra!" he called, and then he was at her side.

"I… I can't…" Cassandra was losing her grip on reality. The air simply wouldn't come. Black was creeping in around her vision. She couldn't get more than a sip of air, and the pressure on her chest increased exponentially whenever she managed what passed for a breath. She was frightened. Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of two Divines and Hero of Orlais, vanquisher of dragons and demons alike, was afraid. And she did not even have enough breath to show her disgust at herself.

"Just give me a minute, Cass. Stay with me!" Bull demanded. She saw the glint of a knife, and for some strange reason she thought he meant to slice off her dead arm. She tried to wriggle away, suddenly quite alarmed, but one powerful hand held her in place by her good shoulder. The knife flashed, and then suddenly the pressure on her chest eased and she could  _breathe_.

Her heavy metal cuirass fell from his fingers, crumpled and unrecognizable as what it had been before.

Taking in great gulps of air despite the pain and discomfort what her cracked ribs, she met his one intact eye. "I… I… thank you, Bull… thank you…"

His smile flashed for her. "Don't mention it. I'm not done. Can you feel your arm?"

She shook her head, still breathing like a man dying of thirst might drink from a well. "No. What is wrong with it?"

He shook his head, his expression grim. "Probably best it's numb. Don't look," he added, taking her chin in one hand and keeping her facing him. His grip was surprisingly gentle, just enough force applied to keep her from moving. He  _looked_  like his grip would be bruising, and Cassandra had no doubt it could be should he choose to. But the fact that when he chose it was this gentle?  _That_  was surprising, indeed.

The dagger flashed once more, and then an odd weight was lifted from her shoulder. He sat back, tossing her shield away. It, too, was a crumpled  _mess._  "My… my arm can't have come out of that in good shape," she said, eyes snapping to his face after following the unrecognizable twisted metal as it was thrown behind him.

His smile was grim. "Not in good shape, no. Mages are busy with the men who're trying to bleed out. But I can fix this good enough until they can see to it. It won't feel good though. Let's… let's get you to camp, first. Do you think you can walk?"

"Of course," Cassandra said without thinking. He helped her up by her good arm, but she barely noticed her freely-swinging dead arm as, the moment she was vertical, a wave of nausea washed over her, and she bent double, heaving.

"Yeah… this isn't going to work" Bull said, sighing.

Before she could protest, Cassandra was literally swept off her feet. Wild eyes casting about, Bull was already moving when Cassandra realized he had her in his arms. She wanted to be outraged, both at his assumption of touching her so intimately and at the idea that she couldn't make it on her own power. But the practical, pragmatic side of Cassandra won, and she stayed still. She could  _not_  make it on her own power. Not without vomiting again. She would rather avoid that.

Instead, Cassandra marveled at the qunari's sheer power. Cassandra was not a small woman. A lifetime of battle training and carrying heavy armor had made her frame solid, muscled, and while her nearly overly large breasts ensured that she retained a feminine figure, almost nothing else about her was feminine in the conventional sense. Narrow hips and a waist nearly as wide meant that if she had ever wanted the hourglass figure so striven for among noblewomen, she would need to wear a corset and pad her hips - which plenty of them did to achieve it, anyway.

But Cassandra was  _strong_. Her core was solid, and she could lift heavy wooden beams or a fully-armored comrade with the best of them. And she was tall, nearly as tall as Cullen, whose blond curls were always visible above the heads of his troops. Her comrades often had trouble lifting her in training, and  _she_  was often the litmus test - a recruit had trained and become strong enough if he or she could lift Seeker Pentaghast and carry her across the room after a workout. The looks on their faces when they were told they would need to lift the Right Hand of the Divine and carry her on their shoulders… it never failed to make her chuckle. Until she was dropped. Cassandra was never amused by being dropped.

It was not that they did not think they could do it, of course. Well, the women were often dubious. But the men… Cassandra was a woman, and therefore no matter how tall and strong she was, men tended to assume her smaller than them. And they were right, most of the time – she _was_  smaller than them, no matter how much bulkier she was than other women. But size and strength were two only barely-related things, and more often than not, a male recruit underestimated her weight and her strength alike. If someone needed a particular lesson in humility taught, she would get up off the ground and pick  _him_  up, against his will, and deposit him upon the floor at his trainer's feet.

Bull, however, was carrying her as though she weighed no more than a  _child_. It was… a strange feeling. Never before had she felt it, in fact. He was carrying her in a manner akin to how the Hero carried his Lady in the stories, and how she had seen men lift women in real life on more than one occasion. Bull was caring for her, also how men often cared for woman, saving them, keeping them safe from the monster.

Cassandra wondered if this feeling in her chest - relief, as well as a warm fluttering that traveled from her lungs down between her legs - was common for other women. Was this the feeling those women felt in their romantic situations? Why was Cassandra experiencing it now, in the arms of a qunari rebel?

_He is strong and a warrior, and treats you like a woman without losing his respect for you. What more do you want?_

_I always imagined it in a human man._

_Well. Perhaps beggars can't be choosers. If he makes you feel this way, if you are attracted to him, then why does it matter that he is qunari?_

_Don't they not have marriage? Or families? No attachment in relation to physical intimacy…_

_He is not a part of the Qun any longer. Perhaps all the rest has changed, as well. He has moved among the world of men for a very long time._

Before Cassandra could follow her mind's line of questioning any further, she found herself being lowered to the ground. As she watched, the soldiers around them began to set up camp, starting a fire and pitching tents, staking horses out to graze and rubbing them down, and tending to the other few wounded during the raid on the darkspawn tunnel. Her attention was almost immediately arrested by The Iron Bull, however.

"All right, Cassandra," he said, settling her head on her bunched up cloak from her saddlebags. "This is gonna fucking hurt. I think you can't feel it because it pinched a nerve. When I reset your arm… you're gonna  _feel_  it."

Cassandra nodded. "I can take it. Now that I can breathe, I think I can do anything."

"You can take anything I give you, huh?" Bull asked, his lips curling in a smirk.

Cassandra's brows furrowed in confusion briefly before she understood his meaning. She was not allowed to voice her displeasure at the crude joke, however, as at that moment, he took her arm and pulled  _hard_  out to the side. She felt several  _pops_ , and then a searing pain flared from her wrist all the way up to her shoulder, spreading through her chest. The Seeker cried out, loudly, getting the attention of all around her, but she didn't care. The pain was so awful that it stole her breath from her once more.

"Shhh, it's alright now," Bull said softly, bringing a rod and bandaging alongside her arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he aligned her arm with the rod and began to splint it. Somehow, he managed to do so with little jostling of the offended limb. "It feels like everything set, and your shoulder popped back into the joint. You're one tough broad. That had to fucking  _hurt_."

"It did," Cassandra gritted, her teeth still clenched. Any movement to her arm or shoulder hurt almost as much as the initial jolt had. But once it was wrapped, she found that she could sit up and keep it at her side with minimal jolts of pain. Instead, she had a steady throb up and down her arm, but it was tolerable, as pain went.

"Here," Bull said, holding out a water skin. She took it, nodding her thanks before thoroughly rinsing her mouth of the foul taste of her earlier vomiting. "You're one badass of a woman, Cass. We'll need to get you a shield that can stand up to the kind of beating  _you_  just stood up to."

"Why do you call me that?"

His one eyes opened large in question. "What?"

"My name is Cassandra. Why do you call me 'Cass'? That was the second time."

Bull simply shrugged. "I feel close enough to you to give you a nickname. I… can stop, if you'd rather?"

 _He feels close to me?_  "No, I… am merely not used to it. I do not have many friends. I am afraid I intimidate more than I ingratiate."

His grin was immediate. "And  _that's_  why I like you, Cass. I like a woman who can scare people into submission. Doesn't get more fun than that."

"Oh?" Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "You have a peculiar definition of fun, Bull."

Bull chuckled before standing. "Yeah, I know. C'mon. I bet you're starving. Think you can eat?"

"You know, I think I could eat," she said, reaching up with her good arm and taking his hand. It dwarfed hers. The thought of it on her body sent a shiver down her spine. Hiding it, she followed him to the cookfire, getting a hard biscuit from the soldier tending to it to tide her over until their evening stew would be ready.


	3. Chapter 3

Cassandra sat reading at a table in the armory. Well, that was not true. Yes, she had a book open before her. But she did not read it. Instead, she stared through the page, thinking of the horrors of the last few weeks. Leading up to this moment, she had been through the siege of Adamant Fortress, she had walked  _physically_  through the Fade, and she had faced down a horrid monster that filled her with her greatest fear.

Failure. The Nightmare had looked like failure. She saw the Divine, dead upon the ground. She saw her fellow Seekers' heads on pikes. She saw her mentor, Byron, dead at her feet, her swords covered in his blood. At one point, the spectre of Galyan threw himself at her, impaling itself on her sword.

Cassandra barely made it out of the Fade with her sanity intact.

She could not stop picturing those faces. She could not stop thinking of all that could go wrong. It felt as though her control was slipping, inch by agonizing inch, and it terrified her. Because when she lost control of a situation… it failed, and everything fell apart.

This was what life had taught Cassandra Pentaghast, and she believed it with all her heart.

But the fact remained that, while Hawke had sacrificed herself to destroy it, Cassandra and her companions - the Inquisitor, Sera, Vivienne, and The Iron Bull - had survived Nightmare and made it back out of the Fade. They had even won. The victory at Adamant was glorious, and the Inquisition's might had increased tenfold.

It was a lesson. Sometimes, even when it looked as though all hope was lost, one could still pull through and the venture prove successful.

Cassandra had a difficult time shedding this particular fear, however. And she was not the only soul to struggle with her fears.

"Cass!" The Iron Bull's voice rang out from below.

Snapping from her reverie, Cassandra looked up, though of course could not see him, as he was below her, in the main room of the armory. "Yes?" she called back.

He appeared on the stairs moments later, walking up to the second floor. "I need your help with something."

She raised a brow. " _You_? Are asking  _me_  for help?"

"Ha ha." Bull's tone was flat, and his eye held a stormy look that Cassandra could not place.

"Very well," she said with a nod, getting to her feet. "What can I do for you, Bull?"

"It's an old qunari training exercise." He held out a staff, used to learn fighting with a non-lethal weapon. With the right strength and placement, it could of course still kill, but it took a great degree of skill with the weapon to learn that.

Cassandra took the staff, brows furrowing in confusion. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"I want you to come out into the yard and hit me as hard as you can with that stick," he said, doing an about-face and heading down the stairs.

"But why in the Maker's name do you want me to do  _that_?!" Cassandra was incredulous. He wanted her to  _hit_  him? She knew it wouldn't damage him, but who wanted to be hit? On  _purpose_?

His voice drifted in through the open door of the smithy. "Because I do. Just hit me, all right?"

She found him outside, standing braced for her assault. Clearly he wasn't even planning to  _try_  to block her. She stared him down, dubious. "You are sure?"

His one eye fixed her with a sardonic look, so she shrugged, took a firmer grip of the staff, reared back, and let loose. The end of the staff landed square in his gut. Unlike a grown human man, Bull merely tensed and let out a soft "oof" before knitting his brows and demanding, "Again."

So Cassandra hit him again. And again. After the fourth time, she paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Just what is the purpose of this?"

"It's to master your fear," he said, bracing himself once more.

So she hit him.

"I don't have a lot of fears."

Hit.

"But demons…"

Hit.

"They crawl under my skin and visit my fucking dreams."

Cassandra hit him once more, pausing to speak as he shook his head. "I suppose I can see that. But hitting you…"

"Again!"

She hit him.

He made a frustrated noise. "Come on!  _This_  is why the Qun doesn't like women fighting! I should have asked Cullen."

Cassandra frowned, narrowing her eyes shrewdly. Squaring her shoulders, she extended the staff all the way and poured all of her considerable power into the blow. She felt her muscles bunch as, at the last moment, she angled upward and clocked him under his chin. He fell. Hard.

"Good one…" Bull groaned from the ground.

"I am capable of more."

Before he could answer, she demonstrated her strength once more by bringing the staff down on Bull's waiting gut. A truly satisfying sound escaped him as his lungs voided of air. He didn't seem to appreciate being hit while he was down, however. His arm whipped out, snagging Cassandra's ankle and yanking  _hard_.

The Seeker yelped, eyes large as her arms flailed, trying and failing to find purchase. She hit the ground and immediately found a great weight atop her, her wrists pinned to the ground above her head. Struggling only made the grip tighten.

"Unhand me!" she shouted, not yet recognizing the flutter in her gut. She thought it fear, and that disgusted her.

Bull, keeping her down by straddling her hips and pinning her wrists to the ground with his mighty hands, moved his face in very close. "Don't get cocky, Cass. I'll have to show you who's boss."

 _This is not fear_ , Cassandra realized with stark clarity.  _This is arousal_. The flutter in her gut had her center almost instantly awash in her fluids. She struggled again. His grip tightened, and he bore down on her even more. Perhaps she was mistaken, but she thought she could feel a bulge between his legs. The tight grip made her gasp, and his one eye betrayed the wicked thought in his mind.

But he did not act on it. Instead he released her. In moments he was on his feet and walking away, leaving Cassandra rubbing at her wrists, panting with desire as she watched his large, powerful form disappear into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene was one of my favorites in the entire game. Bull really does know how to manipulate you into doing what he needs. Nothing else would've made Cassandra hit him to the ground like that.
> 
> And it was too perfect not to use for this.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't judge my depraved little muse...

Caer Oswin was a mess. Cassandra had to kill Daniel with her own weapon, to spare him the absolute _torture_ the Lord Seeker himself had caused!  It was a mercy, truly.  But that did not mean it did not affect Cassandra.  It was yet another life she could not save, another failure her lack of control had caused.  If she had just _insisted_ he abdicate with her and not stay with the Order, he would still be alive!  Daniel had not even believed in this conflict.

“Seeker, you look like shit.”

Cassandra looked up, bleary-eyed from angry tears, from the bench in the garden upon which she sat. She had meant to go fall on her knees and pray at the statue of Andraste, but she never made it. Somehow prayer didn’t seem the answer.

Standing in front of her was Bull, stripped to a simple pair of linen trousers, feet unadorned as was his preference.  It was summer up in Skyhold, likely the warmest it would get this high in the mountains, and the giant qunari had made it clear he wanted to feel the air on his skin as much as he possibly could.  “I’m tired of everyone being hidden under furs.  Let us see each other!” he had declared some days before, drunk as the Seeker had ever seen him.

“That is an excellent summation of how I _feel_ ,” Cassandra quipped, looking down again. 

“You wanna talk about it?”

She sighed, looking up at him again.  Normally she would not. But they were friends now. He had been through much, and he had shared with her.  Bull had been at Caer Oswin with her.  He knew some of what she had seen, what she had been forced to do.  She had not shared with him the contents of the book, however. Perhaps… perhaps she should tell him.

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, thank you. But… not here. Somewhere more private, I think.”

He nodded, holding out his hand to help her to her feet.  “You got it, Cass.  Lead the way, I’ll follow.”

She decided to simply take him to her private quarters above the armory.  It was the only place she could be guaranteed privacy, and it was… familiar.

“I’d wondered where you decided to bunk down,” Bull remarked, ducking his massive horns through the doorway that was really too small for him.  “Spartan, just as I would have expected.  But it’s a good spot.  Forge means it’s always warm, it’s out of the way of most people, and it’s got a good view of the yard so you can find out what’s going on relatively easy. And,” Bull continued, fixing his eye on her, “it’s private.  Bet your soldiers wish they could have private rooms.”

“I take advantage of few privileges allowed me in my position,” Cassandra said, moving to her writing bureau and pulling out the rickety wooden chair she had secured for it. “Private quarters, when they are available, is one of them.”

Bull grinned, holding out his hands.  “Touché. Do you mind if I sit?”

“Please. I left the bed open for a reason. Your bulk might just break this chair.” Cassandra couldn’t keep a smirk from ghosting across her lips.

“Keep it up and I’ll think you’re calling me fat,” Bull retorted, sitting gingerly upon her bed. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

“You were at Caer Oswin with myself and the Inquisitor.  You saw the utter failure of the man who was supposed to command my Order.”

“Yeah, that was some shit if I’ve ever seen it.  What a crazy, bloated, dithering pissant.”

The Seeker could not help a ghost of a chuckle.  “He was not wrong,” she said, sobering and looking away.  “The Seekers and their secrets started this conflict.  They…”  _You must share this, Cassandra.  Keeping it from “the wrong ears” is what caused all the trouble in the first place._   “There is a cure to the Rite of Tranquility.  It needs to be investigated before the information becomes widespread, but… _someone_ found out. It was covered up. There were deaths. But the unrest remained.”

All that met her was a low whistle.

“There is more. You remember me telling you of a Seeker’s vigil?  We are put through the Rite, made tranquil.  I was made tranquil and I did not even know it.  A Spirit of Faith is summoned and touches your mind, and your connection to the Fade and your dreams, your emotions, is restored.  But the person is… unstable for a time after, until they relearn how to control their passions.  That kind of instability in a _mage_ …”

“Could be disastrous,” Bull finished.

“But that does not mean they do not deserve the chance.  _Especially_ for those mages who were made tranquil as punishment.  The Rite was never meant for punishment.  It was meant as an alternative to death for those too frightened to go through with the Harrowing, or who did not think they had the will to withstand a demon. A mage is meant to _choose_ Tranquility, or at worst a mage is meant to be _persuaded_ to choose, based on the advice of his superiors.  It is not perfect, but…”

“But it’s a hell of a lot better than killing frightened children or forcing them to go through with fighting a demon,” Bull finished for her once more.  “I get it.  The Qun handles the problem of mages differently, but I can see how your system is _supposed_ to work, even if it didn’t end up working that way.”

Cassandra sighed, meeting Bull’s gaze.  She could feel her anger rising even as she tried to keep it under control.  “I ‘looked like shit,’ as you put it, because of all of this. If I had known… if we had not hidden this… I could have _changed_ the outcome! Instead we kept our secrets and our superiority complex, and the world was plunged into chaos!”

“The shit the world is going through is _not your fault_ , Cass.” Bull pointed his finger at her from his seat on the bed, his one-eyed gaze intense as he addressed her. “The shit your Order pulled is _not your fault_. They kept you in the dark just like everybody else.  But you made the decision to leave.  You didn’t know it all, and you _still_ knew what they were doing was wrong.  You can’t control _everything_ , Cass.”

“Why _not_?!”  Cassandra was on her feet in an instant, fingers running over her scalp, pulling at her hair in frustration.  She began to pace, looking at the floor.  “Everything that has _ever_ gone wrong, it was because… because…”

She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder.  Bull turned her around, and she found herself so close to him that her nose barely brushed his bare chest.  She was surrounded by the scent of him – cedar and steel and the barest hint of sweat – and the heat of his skin seemed to radiate off of him.  She felt surrounded by his heat, by his very presence.

“You can’t control everything, Cassandra,” he repeated.  His voice was a low rumble in his chest.  She nearly felt she could _feel_ it as she finally looked up into his face.  His pupil was dilated almost entirely, his nostrils flaring wide as he looked down upon her.

She could not honestly say who reached for whom first.  All Cassandra knew was that within the space of one heartbeat and the next, their lips were crashing together in a _scorching_ kiss.  His lips were rough, just like the rest of him.  His beard scratched her chin, but it did not bother her.  He was everything masculine, and it thrilled her to be so close to him.

Hands capable of so much damage wrapped around her waist, pulling her to him, and then suddenly her feet left the ground.  She yelped, pulling back from the taste she could not yet name.  She had no words, however, as her gaze was now on a level with his, and his eye _smoldered_ as he look at her.  Her hands explored his chest, fingers stopping to caress each scar as she found it. His skin was remarkably smooth. She had not expected it. _Humans_ this rugged and large were generally _covered_ in body hair.

“Sometimes it can be very _good_ to lose control. Let me hold your burdens for a little while,” Bull rumbled, pushing his lips into her throat and nibbling and sucking the delicate skin.  His hands kneaded her rump, holding her legs so close to him she could feel the heat of his skin between her legs.  Or was that her own heat?  Cassandra was already so very aroused.

“I… All right,” she managed to croak, tilting her head back to provide him better access. It sent her skin to gooseflesh up and down that side of her body.

He pulled back grinning. “I do something you don’t like, or I go too far, you say ‘ _katoh_ ’, and I stop, no questions asked.”

“‘ _Katoh_ ’?”

He nodded, moving to the bedside.  “That’s the one.”

“Yes, all right. But… I’m not sure what you could possibly-”

She did not get the chance to finish.  Instead, she was unceremoniously dumped upon her bed.  She found herself quickly divested of her boots.  Her tunic followed, and then he was half-straddling her, holding her gaze as he untied the laces to her leggings.  That gaze made breathing difficult.  There was so much of him.  He was more than a head taller than her, his shoulders twice as wide.  Could she handle this much man?

She watched as his one eye roved over her skin, taking in the curve of her large breasts, the gentle swell of her belly, and likely the myriad scars dotting her skin. She had no time to wonder how he felt about them, however, as he was suddenly on his feet, dragging her leggings and smallclothes away.  A flick of his wrist later, and her breastband was abandoned on the floor, as well.

She lay before him now, utterly exposed.  As a warrior, Cassandra had long ago unlearned the modesty her nobility had taught her. Group bathing, or, indeed, _no_ bathing, had long-since divested her of such silly, impractical concerns.  But here, under Bull’s gaze, the Seeker felt utterly vulnerable, more naked than she had felt since the first time she had been forced to unclothe in a room full of male – and a few female – recruits.

But his smile was firmly in place; clearly he liked what he saw.  Also clear to Cassandra was the rapidly-swelling bulge in his rough, homespun trousers.  Rather than reaching for them – quietly, Cassandra was thankful for this, as the impression she was getting was that his manhood was every bit as large as the rest of him – he pushed himself forward, covering Cassandra bodily.  Rather than being squished, he held himself on his elbows, covering her mouth with his and pinning her, but not crushing her. The skin of his chest was warm and smooth, and the press of his manhood against her had her heart instantly racing.

She felt him as much as she could, kissing him and accepting his tongue into her mouth. He plunged forward, claiming her mouth with his own, lazily pawing at her like he had all the time in the world. Cassandra’s caresses were much more frantic.  Her hands wrapped around his back, fingertips dipping into scars, nails scratching up and down his back. She squirmed, trying to get better purchase, trying to shift her legs from where they were pinned closed.

In answer, Bull’s weight left her body, and then suddenly her wrists were pinned to the mattress above her head.

“What-”

Cassandra was not allowed to finish before Bull’s other hand was clapped over her mouth. “No talking,” his deep voice rumbled, and then her mouth was uncovered once more, his glorious weight pressed into her again as his lips sought out the tender skin of her throat. She gasped when his hand found her hair and pulled, exposing more of her throat.  Cassandra had never been manhandled in such a way, and she found it surprisingly exhilarating.  Her hips bucked almost of their own accord.  Her center was likely _dripping_ in the most obscene of ways.

She was _ready_.  And he had only made it to her throat.

His grip on her wrists was like iron manacles.  She strained against him, but he would not budge.  Without thinking, she tried speaking once more.  “Bull, why are you-”

Again, she was cut off, this time by a particularly sharp yank of her hair.  She gasped, her eyes watering at the sting. “No.  Talking.”  His deep voice vibrated near her ear.  “The only word you are allowed to say is _katoh_.”

“Why-”

Another yank. “ _I_ am in charge, Cassandra.  You are to _obey_ my orders.”

She suddenly understood. He would literally take her power, her control, away from her.  There was an immediate gush between her legs.  _Why is this so arousing?_ Cassandra had no time to contemplate, however, as his assault on her skin moved lower.  He did not allow her to watch, the hand holding his weight off her still holding her hair painfully tight.  But it was… a _pleasant_ sort of pain, particularly when a warm, wet tongue began laving at her nipple.

Cassandra gasped again, nearly saying Bull’s name before literally biting her tongue to keep from speaking.  He growled his approval, taking her nipple into his mouth as he released her hair, allowing her the freedom to look down upon the giant qunari atop her. The sight of his sucking upon her breast sent another jolt of electricity straight through her chest to settle in her lower belly.  Still her legs were pinned and she could not move them, not even to relish her own fluids likely coating her inner thighs.  But she could feel she had an effect on him: his manhood now pressed insistently into her, straining and jumping whenever she shifted her hips against him.

She was simultaneously curious and anxious of what lay within.

A sharp pain drew her attention back to his mouth on her nipple, and she hissed, a sharp, cold thing, to see what she could already feel him doing.  Bull had drawn his lips back, baring his teeth. Between them was her nipple. He applied ever-greater pressure, his one eye fixed on her face.  Cassandra whimpered, biting her lip for a moment before squirming again, crying out when he would not relent and her movement caused her breast to pull too far. Finally, he released the captive bud of nerves, only to move immediately to its twin.

Back and forth he traveled, torturing her until she felt her nipples were afire. Still she did not say a word, as she finally understood this game, and _longed_ to disappear into it.  Never before had she understood the appeal.  But never before had Cassandra Pentaghast met someone man enough for her. Always she had had to feign a femininity she did not truly feel with Galyan, and he had been the only one. He had not been rough enough, treating her so tenderly that she might be made of porcelain.  But she cared for him, and their trysts were satisfying.

But this… Cassandra never knew it could be like this.  The Iron Bull was her friend, her confidante… and now her lover.  He dominated her, unafraid of hurting her a little, treating her as the warrior they both knew she was.  He did not need her to be a dainty, feminine flower.  She was all hard-bodied _power_ , and he was unafraid of possessing that power and commanding it, of working her body until she was a quivering mess.

Which she would be soon if he did not _take_ her!

Finally the torment of her breasts stopped, and Cassandra found her wrists released. Her hands _flew_ to his shoulders, squeezing and groping and scratching at his flesh, trying to make up for all the fondling she was denied up to this point.

Bull chuckled, pulling away slightly, no longer straddling her thighs and pinning her down. Before Cassandra could even whimper her protest, or shift her legs as she had been trying to do from the start, Bull had her knees in each hand, spreading them and humming his approval of what he saw deep in his throat.  Moving to his knees on the floor, the qunari yanked Cassandra around.  Her heart flew up into her throat as he growled his approval once more, and then his face disappeared between her legs.

His attack was vicious. Bull’s warm tongue immediately speared into her, and given that he was qunari and _large_ , it was more than just a novelty – he really could stretch her a little only with his tongue.  The Seeker again barely remembered to keep from speaking, though this time it would have resembled “Dear sweet Maker” instead of asking him what he was doing. He seemed to really love her flavor, as he maintained a veritable _purr_ deep in his throat, vibrating up through Cassandra and making her body _sing_ with desire. Her knees draped over his shoulders, Cassandra reached down, caressing the top of his head, almost petting him as he devoured her very essence.

Pulling back slightly, Bull focused his attention on that beautiful, delicious point at the top of Cassandra’s sex.  Finally pushed past the edge of knowing what she was doing, she cried out, gripping Bull’s horns for dear life as his vicious onslaught brought her teetering to the edge of release. Panting, calling out to the Maker for mercy, but never saying the word for him to stop, Cassandra nearly wept as she watched the giant qunari in his _relentless_ quest to reduce her to a trembling mess upon her own bed, holding herself up by the massive horns atop his head.

She finally fell off the edge of the knife upon which she had teetered when The Iron Bull’s grey eye met hers. 

“Sweet Andraste!” she barked.

She came like that, eyes held captive by his gaze even as the entire rest of her body gave a mighty buck and nearly _leaped_ off the bed. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, seizing her body in its grip.  Bull’s tongue did not stop its mad dance. He seemed unconcerned about her thighs clenching rhythmically around his face, even though she knew he could not breathe.

Finally she collapsed, legs going limp, dangling over Bull’s back, her own shoulders hitting her mattress as she sighed.  She was about to thank him, to prepare herself for his monstrous member in her hands or mouth to finish him, but then his tongue darted out once more, sending an electric jolt through her body.

“Bull?!” Cassandra looked up to see his smirk. Then he was letting her legs drop, surging up to grasp her wrists and pin them once more.

“What did I say about speaking?” Bull growled.  “You were saying a lot of things just now.”  She felt his hand between them, fingers toying with the hair there. She whimpered, eyes wide as she looked into his face.  She was utterly exposed. He could do anything he liked.

It _thrilled_ her.

“You know I think you need to be punished, Cassandra,” The Bull murmured, his face close to hers as his hand trailed lower, parting her folds, a finger pushing toward her entrance. Her own scent washed over her face, and his lips glistened with her fluids.  “You keep disobeying me.  I wonder. Have you ever had your own pleasure be torturous?”

Without waiting for an answer – not that Cassandra thought he particularly wanted one – she felt herself speared.  She cried out, but he would not let her fill the room with the sounds of her pleasure. Instead he swallowed her cries, plundering her mouth as he plundered her core.  Her own taste on his lips, in his mouth, successfully stoked the coals of her desire once more.  He pushed in and up, squeezing and making her _squeal_ before relenting and pulling his hand out and away.

His weight disappeared, and before Cassandra could think to follow him up, massive hands delved under her shoulders and hips, scooping her up and over onto her belly.

“Stay put,” he said, his tone a warning.  He’d known she was about to get up, to move in some way that was not such a _ridiculous_ position.  She could not even see him!  But his hand firm on her back and his words combined to keep her still.  Cassandra could almost _feel_ his eye on her, roving over the landscape of her back, her rump, her slightly spread legs and the _dripping_ prize between them.  She felt fingers probing at her, and then _two_ fingers pressed swiftly inside of her, stretching her around him.

Cassandra’s fingers curled into the blanket, a white-knuckled grip pulling at the fabric. She whimpered at being so full, biting her lip as she strained to take all he had for her.

_If this is only two fingers, I am not sure I would ever be able to take him, truly._

He pulled out some, thrusting back in, eliciting another gasp from her lips.  Again and again he thrust into her, and again and again her body eased his passage, stretching for him, providing fluids with each pass of his fingers.  He probed and pressed inside of her, all the while holding her down with a hot palm pressed firmly between her shoulders.  His rhythm increased gradually, until she realized that he was _fucking_ her so hard and fast that her entire body moved with him.

Cassandra’s lips were dry and chapped. Her tongue had dried out. Her gasping pants were ragged, her cries feeling like sandpaper in her throat.  It seemed her treacherous, traitorous body had stolen all semblance of moisture from her and poured it between her legs to lubricate Bull’s ministrations. It felt _incredible_.

But she would not fall again if he continued to ignore her needs.  All she needed was a finger, just a single finger pressed to the apex of her nerves, and she would fall with The Iron Bull inside of her.

But he would not. Instead, he slowed, grunting and panting himself in his excitement, and then a third finger was sliding inside of her alongside its brethren.  Cassandra cried out, nearly ready to say the word that would make him stop, make him quit pushing her limits.  But he stopped all movement before it left her lips, relaxing his fingers and just staying put. Cassandra forced herself to relax, feeling relief as the sting of the stretch eased.  She lay there, panting, out of breath, trying to wet her tongue and her lips to no avail.

“Good girl,” Bull murmured, pulling another whimper from Cassandra’s ragged throat.  His chuckle was low, emerging from deep in his chest, and it sent a thrill through the Seeker, along with a fresh flood of fluid around his fingers.  He began to move once more, no longer pressing and searching, simply an in-and-out rhythm that stretched her even further.

Cassandra could take no more. She had been pushed right against her limit. But she could also not move. Every time she tried, Bull’s hand pushed her further into her mattress, keeping her pinned there as he plundered her insides with his hand.  The pleasure teetered on the brink of pain, no longer because of the stretch – _that_ had miraculously disappeared – but because of her frayed, abused nerves.  Her nipples, still so sensitive from Bull’s assault, were pressed into the rough woolen blanket, chafing and sending spikes of pleasure through her. Her fingers were sore from gripping the blanket so tightly.  Her clit _ached_ from the lack of attention.

And yet she could not bring herself to say the word that would make him stop.  She did not _want_ him to stop.

Finally, Bull stopped, pulling his hand from her center roughly as the rest of him disappeared, as well. A hoarse cry fell from her lips, but she did not attempt to move.  She felt so empty, so suddenly.  She was not sure what she wanted, whether she was disappointed or relieved. She was curious at the rustle she could hear, but lacked the energy to look around and see.  Her clit pulsed, calling for her to touch it, just touch it, and let her fall.  But she could not muster energy even for _that._

Rough, warrior’s hands scooped her over to her back once more, and then she was being gathered into his embrace. “You can talk now, Cass.”

_That’s wonderful, but what could I say?  I have no energy._

Before she could seek him out, he was scooping her up.  She yelped, holding tight around his neck.  “Just a little more work, Cass,” he rumbled in her ear.  She could almost _feel_ his smug grin.

He was nude, now. Cassandra could feel his manhood at attention, pressing insistently into her, his hand guiding himself into place.  Her legs were splayed, draped over his mighty arms, and once he was in position and began to lower her onto him, both of his hands held her fast by her rump. This display of raw _power_ … once again she felt her core gush fluid.

She had not gotten a good look at him.  She did not truly know how large he was.  But she could _feel_.  Three of his fingers had stretched her out well, and it was with relative ease that he slid into her.  He bottomed out with a grunt, eliciting a sharp cry from Cassandra.

“Bull, that… that hurts. Not _remotely_ in a good way.”

He nodded, lifting her the tiniest amount, relieving the pressure deep inside of her. “Some women like it, others don’t. Thanks for letting me know.”

She nodded, but that was all she was allowed, as his lips sought hers and his tongue was suddenly plundering her dry mouth once more.  At the same time, he began lifting her, letting her fall.  Lifting, falling, lifting, falling, a steady rhythm, of his member spearing into her, stretching her, of his mouth swallowing her cries. It was all Cassandra could do to hold on; she could not possibly match him, not anymore.  She hadn’t the energy.  But he had done his job well, stretching her to the point where she could accommodate him, so they could be together in this way.

With each fall she let out a grunt.  Bull pulled back from his conquest of her mouth, eye intent on her as he used her to fuck himself. She merely held on, gazing just as intently back, even as his exertions caused _her_ to pant far more than _him_. She was being pushed to that cliff’s edge once more, mercilessly, and all she needed was a tiny bit of stimulation to fall.

“I’m ready, Cass,” Bull rumbled, and she could feel that he, indeed, seemed ready to burst inside of her. His rhythm was more erratic, occasionally going deep enough to hurt her _just_ a little bit.  “Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, and Cassandra nearly swooned.  Nodding, taking hold of one of his horns to support herself, Cassandra snaked her other hand between the two of them, pressing a single finger to the swollen bud of nerves above her sex.

That was all it took. She fell, pushed forcefully over the edge of the cliff even as Bull continued pumping himself inside of her. The Seeker cried out, doubling over and burying her face in Bull’s massive shoulder.  This one was even more powerful than the last, ripping through her body, curling her toes, setting her skin on fire.  After a timeless moment, Bull joined her in her fall, shouting something as he stilled, spilling himself inside of her.  The sensation only spurred her on further, prolonging her pleasure until she collapsed against him, body spent, muscles aching in the most delightful of ways, and her throat so hoarse that she could make no further sound.

Bull twitched, spending himself fully before he, too, collapsed, sinking back down onto the bed, Cassandra atop him.  His hot skin felt _amazing_ , and she gladly buried her face against his chest.  She was boneless, utterly limp, marveling in the feel of Bull’s arms wrapped loosely around her, the rise and fall of his chest enough to move her entire body several inches with it.

“There,” he panted, voice raspy and lower than ever.  “Losing control… can be a good time, right?”

His body tensed before she could think coherently enough to form an answer, and he pulled himself from her, and she immediately missed his bulk.  Cassandra could only whimper, fingers flexing into Bull’s chest in protest.  She did not want him to leave.  She wanted him to stay where he was.  She needed the connection after he had so thoroughly frayed her nerves.

“No? You want me to stay here, like this?” She nodded her head, keeping her eyes closed.  Bull chuckled, relaxing again.  Then, inexplicably, she felt his beard tickle her face, and he pressed a single kiss to her forehead. “Rest well, Cass,” he rumbled, and it was with a smile on her lips that she fell into an exhausted, sore, well-sated sleep.

 


End file.
